


Aquatica

by Seanbiggerstaffrox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Interspecies Romance, M/M, Other, Romance, Tentacle Creature Derek, Tentacles, some sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2028033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanbiggerstaffrox/pseuds/Seanbiggerstaffrox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It’s supposed to be a fun trip to the beach. Stiles and Scott pack up the jeep and meet some friends down at the coast. They go swimming and everything’s great, until it isn’t. Stiles isn’t sure where it all goes wrong, but he finds himself waking up hours later in a cavern.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aquatica

**Author's Note:**

> Written on my [tumblr](http://the-greatest-dragon.tumblr.com/) for vafrous-vee's prompt "Some form of sterek? Tentacles and incest optional." 
> 
> This story was inspired by the Destiel fic [The Seraph](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1548941/chapters/3281606) by Hywar.

** Aquatica: **

It’s supposed to be a fun trip to the beach. Stiles and Scott pack up the jeep and meet some friends down at the coast. They go swimming and everything’s great, until it isn’t. Stiles isn’t sure where it all goes wrong, but he finds himself waking up hours later in a cavern. He’s naked under a blanket of seaweed, and it’s night time. He groans, reaching up and clutching at his temple when he feels his brain pulsing against his skull.

There’s a weird burbling noise from nearby and Stiles bends his neck, lifting his head so he can get a peek at the source of the sound. He yelps in shock, scrambling back on the vine contraption he’s lying in and staring at the _thing_ in front of him.

“What the f-”

It’s a weird octopus-like creature, only it’s got half a man’s body attached to it. A hot man, but still, not normal. Stiles screams. He’s fairly certain this is a nightmare and he looks down at his hands. He read once that in dreams you always have more or less fingers than you ought to. When everything looks normal he puts that factoid into the baloney pile, because clearly this can’t be real.

The thing burbles in concern, lips parting to expose a tongue that’s blue and looks more like a tentacle, complete with small suckers. Stiles gapes in horror. He tries to say something, but his mouth won’t open and his vocal chords have frozen up. The creature crawls onto the bed to join him, coiling its arms and tentacles around Stiles body. The teen lets out a high-pitched whine. The thing’s puckered tongue slides over Stiles’ neck and the human jumps, breath stuttering in his chest. He parts his lips to speak and the thing slips its tongue into Stiles’ mouth, poking and prodding around. It sucks on Stiles’ tongue and the teen cringes, trying to pull away. The thing burbles again, petting tentacles over Stiles’ body in a soothing gesture that does the opposite.

When his mouth is released, Stiles turns his head away, wondering if this thing speaks English. It certainly speaks bitchface, judging by the look it gives him when he tries to wriggle away. He thinks its eyebrows (and why it has those, he has no idea) could be a language of their own.

***

Stiles spends the next few days watching the thing in terror. He’s waiting for it to lash out and kill him, but it just goes about its business, cuddling him and touching him occasionally before huffing and disappearing into the water. Stiles starts to relax just a little bit, coming out of his stupor enough to process the situation.

***

Stiles names the thing Derek because it’s better than calling it ‘thing.’

“Derek.” Stiles says, trying to get it (him?) to sound it out. The stupid octopus just burbles and throws an oyster at him, like Stiles is going to fucking eat it or something. Dumbass.

***

Derek’s kind of an asshole, Stiles decides when the sea creature growls at him for trying to leave the bed. There’s nothing to do in the cavern, and Derek’s busy poking at tidepools, so Stiles is _bored._ He’d like to get up and move, and, hopefully, find out where the hell he is. In a perfect world, he’d be able to go home even, because he’s pretty sure his dad’s worried by now and he’s also got an English assignment that is well past due.

“Derek.” Stiles says. Even more pressing is the fact that he’s still naked and he would love some clothes. He misses pants.

Derek gargles and swirls his finger in the puddle, chasing a hermit crab.

“Okay seriously, dude, why am I here? Are you going to eat me? What’s the deal?”

Derek tilts his head, confused. His eyebrows flick together.

Stiles lets out an irritated groan and kicks his legs. He needs to get up and move. He’s been in the bed for five days now and he’s going crazy. He sits up, ignoring Derek’s growl, and moves to the edge of the raft-like mattress. He’s debating diving right into the water when Derek scrambles over, pulling him back and forcing him to lie down. Stiles lets out a frustrated sob, struggling in Derek’s grip.

“Look, if you’re hoping to keep me here until I’m nice and tender, than you can forget it.” Stiles snaps, kicking and pushing. “Either eat me now or let me up.”

Derek forces him down, pinning him and glaring. His tentacles swirl, angry and powerful as they wrap him in a tight grip. Stiles glares into Derek’s green eyes, waiting for the creature’s next action.

Silence stretches between them and Stiles gets impatient. “I know you don’t understand what I’m saying,” He says, “But I swear to god, if you don’t do something, I will make your life hell.”

Derek watches the movement of his lips but doesn’t react to the words. He sees the anger, but he can’t understand where it’s coming from. Derek leans forward, pressing his mouth against Stiles’. It’s the second time this has happened since Derek kidnapped him, but it feels different now. Stiles lets out a strangled whimper, frowning as Derek swipes his blue tongue across Stiles’ bottom lip.

The sea-creature seems encouraged by the noise and he pushes forward, deepening the kiss. Stiles feels himself reacting and he thinks it must be pent up energy, but it feels like desire. He leans into the connection, releasing a soft, startled sound as his tongue tangles with Derek’s. It feels slick and weird. The ridges of the suckers slide against his taste buds and there’s light suction, stimulating thousands of small nerves and sending fire racing through Stiles’ veins. The teen’s eyelashes flutter shut and he moans. His heart thunders in his chest and his skin tingles where Derek’s feelers grip at him. The sea-creature’s palms scrape over Stiles’ chest, and the human arches into it, breaths coming more quickly.

Stiles’ dick twitches to life between them and Derek breaks away, shifting and looking down curiously. The octopus-man stares quietly, face pink and eyebrows crinkled in confusion. When he seems to register just what that thing between Stiles’ legs is, he lets out a “blorp” and scuttles off, disappearing under the water.

“Hey.” Stiles protests. “You can’t just leave a guy hanging like that! That’s not…” He sighs, knowing Derek’s long gone. “Not cool.” He finishes lamely.

He sighs, waiting for his hormones to cool before he leaves the bed, walking carefully along the edge of the cave. The stone’s slick and he has to be careful not to slip. Out at the mouth of the cavern, he spots water, deep and horrifying as it stretches out as far as he can see. There are tall, sharp rocks poking up from the sea and Stiles steps forward cautiously, balancing on the flatter stones as he tries to find what the cave’s attached to. He can see that there’s more land, stretching out on the right side of the grotto, but it’s too far away. He’d have to swim to get to the shore, and even then, it looks too rocky to climb up easily. There may be flatter areas to the left, but he can’t see behind the rocks. Above the cave is all cliff face, foreboding and difficult to maneuver.

Stiles stares out at the choppy waters, scared by the sight of the dark, navy waves that swirl over an undoubtedly endless pool of unknown terrors. He feels the panic bubble up in his chest and he takes a step back, squeaking when wetness envelopes his foot. Stiles moves further into the cave, hugging the stone wall and staring wide-eyed at the pond inside the cavern. He wonders what’s lurking in there. The thought stops him in his tracks. He’s paralyzed, too afraid to move in case he slips in and he looks longingly at the stone plateau further in the cave. There’s an opening that he’s been eyeing for a few days now that looks like it leads into other passages and more pools. Sunlight streams in from an unknown skylight on the other side of stone columns, and Stiles thinks he’ll try that direction next time. He’d have gone that way first, but claustrophobia had propelled him to the mouth of the cave rather than toward a journey into more stony enclosures.

Stiles tries to take a step further into the grotto, but he’s too scared to release his grip on the wall. He clenches his jaw, breath stuttering when his foot slides in ocean slime.

“Derek?” He whispers. “I could use some help.”

He doesn’t receive a response and he inhales deeply, trying to steady himself. He pries his fingers from the side of the cavern and steps forward. He shakes before settling and moves to take another stride. His foot slips and he tumbles down into the pool.

“Holy-” His curse is cut off by water coming up over his head. Stiles flails, clambering for the surface. He doggy paddles as soon as his face is above water. He moves too slow, staring around in a panic. Something swirls around his legs and he shouts, kicking at it. There’s a burble and he looks back, finding Derek watching him in amusement. Tentacles wind around Stiles’ body, holding him steadily, and Derek’s lips quirk as he settles Stiles onto a cluster of feelers, using them like a seat to prop him up. “You’re a jerk.” Stiles says, grabbing the sea creature’s shoulders and holding on for dear life.

Derek snorts, looking at the horrified human and moving languidly around the pond. Stiles hugs him close on instinct, clutching desperately and watching the water shift past them. He thought Derek would take him back to the bed, but the octopus doesn’t, he just circles inside the grotto and seems to take pleasure in the way Stiles clings to him.

“Asshole.” Stiles grumbles into his shoulder, snuggling close. He tells himself it’s out of survival instinct.  

***

Derek’s kind of cute, Stiles decides two weeks into his captivity. Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome or maybe Stiles is just weird, but the sea creature has moments where he’s just plain adorable. Like when he’s playing with the fish in the pond or when he’s cuddling up to Stiles in the early morning, or when he snores and lets out these adorable little burbles. Or when he laughs and it sounds like bubbles and coos.

Stiles watches Derek from the stone shore, smiling softly to himself. Derek’s fooling around in the pond. He’s found an octopus and he seems to be engaging in a game of tag with it. Stiles sighs, looking down and wiggling his toes in the water. Since Derek’s made a point of staying close by, Stiles has gotten better about being near the pond. He thinks he might even eventually get brave enough to try swimming out of the grotto. He hopes he will, because he doesn’t really have a lot to do in the cave and he’s starting to develop cabin fever. 

The teen exhales again, smile fading as he realizes how lacking things are. He has a life in Beacon Hills – a _home_ – where he has things to do and people to talk to. He wishes he could go back.

There’s a gurgle and a splash and then Derek’s in front of him, looking up at him curiously. He lets out a “blorp” and Stiles can see the concern on the creature’s features.

“Hey.” Stiles says. Derek keens and Stiles thinks he’s trying to ask what’s wrong. “I want to go home, Derek.” He confesses. “But I also…” Stiles exhales, contemplative. “I also don’t want to leave? I think.” He whispers. And it’s true. Home’s stressful and confusing. All the complications that face him there are entirely absent here, even if he does wish he could find more dry land and some jeans. It’s nice being around Derek. But he misses his dad. He misses Scott.

Derek strokes a hand over Stiles’ cheek and feelers wind around the teen, holding him close. Stiles’ breath stutters and he gazes into Derek’s seaweed-colored eyes. The teen leans forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s and the creature lets out a pleased burble. Stiles reaches up, lacing his fingers through soaked black tendrils, and he lets himself give his all into the connection. He feels confused. He isn’t sure if he’s going to try and escape or not, but he knows he wants this kiss to be important. He wants it to have impact.

Stiles attacks Derek’s mouth hungrily, licking between his lips and sucking at the sea creature’s tongue. Derek trills, his tentacles flexing and twirling around him. Stiles scoots closer, his calves sinking into the water as he splays his legs on either side of Derek. A hand slides down the creature’s back, fingertips pressing eagerly into slick, hard muscle as he gasps against Derek’s lips.

Derek’s palms splay against Stiles’ shoulder blades. The octopus-man is letting out garbled sounds that vibrate against his mouth and the teen moans. Stiles breaks away, panting for air. Derek moves downward, tongue sliding across Stiles’ neck and sucking the sensitive skin. The human keens, mouth open on stuttered breaths as he feels the weird, slick suction against his throat. It feels amazing and he trembles, nerves crackling under his skin. He wants Derek. It’s a startling notion, but one he opts not to worry about. At least not as long as he’s got the creature pressed against him.

“Derek.” Stiles whimpers, arching against the tentacle beast and letting him feel the hard presence between his legs.

Derek ‘blorps’ and pulls back, looking down at Stiles’ lap. He seems lost as he stares at the teen’s member and Stiles bites his lip. He wonders how Derek has sex, if he doesn’t have a dick. He hopes he doesn’t do something weird, like try to fuck Stiles’ ear or something.

The teen reaches down, fingers stopping to flex in the air, tentative, before he reaches for his hardness. “Like this.” He says, wrapping his fist around his cock. He strokes slowly, watching Derek’s eyes track the movement. “You just have to-” Stiles gasps, unable to contain a soft noise of want as he pleasures himself. “To t-touch.” He explains, breathless. His eyes close briefly and his cheeks flush.

Derek trills, pushing Stiles’ hand aside and staring down at the teen’s dick. He looks at his palm contemplatively and then at a tentacle, seeming to weigh his options. Stiles holds his breath, not sure which one he prefers.

Derek reaches forward finally, exploring Stiles’ member with his hand. Stiles shudders, watching in fascination as pale fingers traverse his length. Derek pulls away and Stiles groans in disappointment. A tentacle moves forward, wrapping around Stiles and pulling. Derek’s testing out both limbs, seeing how each one works out. Stiles moans, hips jumping up to follow the appendage. Derek shudders and Stiles watches the tentacle wriggle. He thinks the sea creature must be sensitive along his feelers, because he garbles out a pleased noise, staring at the connection between them with awe.

Stiles leans forward, pressing a kiss to Derek’s mouth, coaxing his lips open. Derek’s appendage moves faster, stroking and sucking along Stiles’ length.

“Derek. Fuck.” Stiles whimpers. He pushes forward, trying to rock into the touch. Derek’s hand falls down to his tailbone and he pulls the human forward, down into the water. Stiles lets out a surprised noise as cool wetness hits the base of his cock. The fall from the ledge into the pond lasts a few inches before Derek holds him steady, keeping him securely in his lap and continuing his strokes. The creature slurps at Stiles’ neck, leaving tingling marks against his skin. Hands move down to Stiles’ ass, gripping strongly and Stiles groans, arching his head back and clutching at the sea creature.

Wriggling flesh travels over Stiles’ length, squeezing around the base and moving up to where he’s exposed over the pool’s surface. Stiles looks down, whining at the sight of Derek’s tentacle against his cock.

“Oh my god.” Stiles moans, shuddering. His lips are parted on desperate inhales and he wiggles in Derek’s grip.

It doesn’t take long for the teen to come, spilling across his stomach. Derek looks concerned almost, but he sniffs, eyeing the liquid and seeming to conclude that it’s not dangerous. Derek shudders, tentacle flicking restlessly in the teen’s lap, and Stiles reaches down, wrapping his fingers around it and caressing experimentally. The creature shivers, burbling, and Stiles keeps going, more confident as he watches the man tremble.

Derek can’t communicate his wants and desires verbally, so Stiles has to study his face and read his expression. He takes in the slight crinkle in Derek’s brows and the way the octopus-man’s lips part on a gasp as his cheeks flush pink. His tongue flicks out – his bizarre, blue tongue – and Stiles is surprised to find that the sight of it running over Derek’s lips is enticing. He chases the muscle, giving a soft suck to its surface, and Derek warbles, grasping Stiles’ ass and quivering.

Stiles wants to see him come. He feels like he needs to see Derek fall over the edge, and he strokes eagerly, fingers catching along Derek’s suckers.

“Come on.” Stiles urges, staring fixedly at the sea creature’s face. Derek’s breath falters and his eyes clench shut as he mewls. He throws his head back, panting and stuttering as his tentacle twists, spasming in Stiles’ grip. Ink shoots out, thick and black and spraying all over Stiles. The teen freezes in shock, heart pounding in his chest as he watches Derek orgasm. It’s beautiful, foreign, and altogether thrilling. He reaches out, stroking ink-stained fingers along Derek’s cheek.

The octopus-man blinks his eyes open, looking up at Stiles sheepishly. He coos and Stiles isn’t sure if it’s a question or a sentiment, but he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Derek’s lips. He feels content. He feels softer and vulnerable. Stiles is defenseless here, stripped of his ability to give smartass retorts and sarcastic rebuttals. He can’t deliberately piss Derek off or sabotage their relationship because his words – his most powerful weapon – have been drained of their strength. He thinks he could say anything he wanted and Derek would never notice, which has deprived the behavior of its appeal.

Derek coos again and Stiles wishes he could speak octopus, because he thinks the man probably has interesting things to say. Derek shifts, bringing Stiles back up on the shore. He traces his fingers over Stiles torso, running down the black ink that’s mixing in with Stiles’ cum. The teen bites his cheek, stomach jumping in his chest. Derek lingers for a moment before pulling away. He gestures at his mouth and disappears under water. Lunch time, Stiles guesses. The teen sighs, looking around the cavern and kicking his feet back and forth in the water, trying to make sense of his muddled feelings.

***

Stiles explores the passage at the back of the cave. It leads to another cave, which looks out at the right side of the shore. It’s rocky and unpleasant, not traversable at all. Stiles abandons his hope that anything to the right of the grotto will prove useful. He’ll have to get to the other side, which means climbing far enough out on the sharp ledge to take a peak. It’ll be difficult and he’s not sure how he’ll manage, but he has to try.

***

Another week into captivity, gray accumulates in the sky, making the water look more treacherous. Stiles thinks there’s a storm approaching and he worries about what kind of danger that poses. The grotto isn’t the best form of shelter and Stiles is already finding his provisions lacking on a good day. He clenches his jaw, summoning all of his determination as he steps out onto the rocks. He feels sharp edges slice into his feet but he doesn’t turn back. Salt water mixes into the wounds, burning against his soles, and Stiles worries more than ever about how vulnerable he is in his nude state. He wonders how Derek can stand swimming around like he does – especially in winter.

Stiles keeps his eyes peeled for the sea creature, who’s off getting food. He wonders how the man would react at finding Stiles out on the rocks. Derek’s not too overbearing, but he does tend to like Stiles contained in the cavern.

The teen works his way around the outer wall of the cave, finding a thin, stone ledge to balance precariously on. He looks up at the area. The cliff curves, hiding the rest of the island from view. It looks like it cuts off though. Stiles can see foliage pocking out around the edge and he thinks he catches the faintest glimpse of sand. Water laps up against the rock and Stiles looks down. Swimming might be too risky with undercurrents and sharp boulders. Stiles’ best chance is climbing along the cliff wall until he can peer around the other side of the stone to get a better look at the island.

Stiles takes a deep breath, grabbing hold of the crag and pulling himself upward. He stifles the scared tremble in his limbs as he balances himself on the bluff and he starts working his way across, willing himself not to look down. A mantra of panicked curses echoes in his head and they’d spill out of his mouth too if he weren’t afraid he’d fall the minute he focused on anything other than his arms and legs. Wind kicks up, sending chilly air over Stiles’ naked body. The teen grits his teeth, shuffling along the cliff face. He slips, foot slicing on a sharp ridge. Blood drips down, falling into the water below, and Stiles pauses, taking in several deep breaths to steady himself. He starts moving again, aware of his precarious position halfway between the cavern and the corner. He’s at the middle mark, where he’s too far from either end to have any sense of security.

Stiles almost turns back. He knows it would be the smart thing to do, but he keeps going, stomach performing nervous flips in his abdomen. Stiles gets closer to his destination and the glimpse of foliage and shore disappears as the large boulder looms in front of him. It’s flatter there, more difficult for climbing, but Stiles thinks he can balance his legs and hands on either side to help support himself.

Stiles hears a splash beneath him, going against the normal rhythm of the waves. He thinks Derek’s come back and he expects to see his captor’s panicked face staring up at him when he looks down. He doesn’t. He sees a shape moving under the waves a short distance away. It’s massive, stretching out in sharp, horrifying, unmistakable triangles. The shark’s circling about ten feet from Stiles’ location and the teen lets out a strangled scream behind closed lips. He’s frozen in place, breathing shallowly and telling himself that he just needs to stay still and the fish will leave. He feels blood drip down from his foot, dropping off into the water below. Stiles whimpers, looking back at the shark. It’s still swimming in circular patterns. The blood spreads out and the fish falters, jerking in Stiles’ direction.

“No, no, no, no.” Stiles chants desperately, hugging the cliff wall and cringing. He’s not that far up from the water. He’s pretty sure the shark could bite into his ankle and pull him down fairly easily.

The water below ripples as the fish draws closer. Stiles’ frightened whine is buried under a strange pinging, like the sound of a submarine sonar. It’s muffled by the water, but Stiles can still make it out and he frowns in confusion, looking down to see a massive shape barreling toward the shark. Stiles just barely recognizes the form as Derek’s. He’s never seen him fully extended, stretched out below the ocean’s surface. He looks like a leviathan. It’s intimidating and terrifying and Stiles feels somewhat sympathetic when he sees the shark turning, trying to escape from Derek’s trajectory. The sea creature gets a hold of the fish and Stiles watches as the shark goes on the defensive. Derek’s not interested in fighting. He’s not even interested in killing and Stiles watches the man chase the shark away, flinging it through the sea and flexing himself threateningly as it retreats. The pinging noise sounds again, a last warning to the beast to stay clear.

Derek rises, poking his head out of the water and glaring at Stiles. He opens his mouth, letting out an irritated vibration and Stiles suspects he might be in trouble. He gets confirmation of this when Derek weaves through the rocks and reaches up, pulling the teen roughly down from the ledge. Stiles is wrapped up in Derek’s grip and the man takes them back into the safety of the grotto.

Stiles is placed in the bed and Derek gives him a warning growl before dipping back into the pond. He comes up after a few moments with clams and fish. Stiles has been surviving on raw aquatic life for weeks now and he’s getting tired of it. He likes sushi as much as the next person, but he’d kill for a burger and some curly fries. Stiles eats without complaint though, because Derek’s giving him this furious stare and Stiles would rather not give him more cause to be angry.

Stiles looks down, spotting the ink stain across his chest. He sighs, swallowing down a clam and trying to pretend it’s not disgusting.

***

Stiles and Derek reconcile somewhat. Derek doesn’t hold him quite so close and Stiles feels chillier at night, when the man’s usually tight hold becomes more hesitant. They don’t kiss at all, but the tension in Derek’s face starts to ease as the days pass.

After about a week, Stiles wakes up to find Derek watching him contemplatively. He frowns, giving him a questioning look, and Derek garbles out some sort of inquiry, but Stiles can’t make heads or tails of it. Derek sighs, grabbing Stiles and pulling him towards the water. Derek wraps him up, dipping into the pond and swimming with Stiles firmly in his grasp. The teen holds on, blinking sleep out of his eyes and watching their progress through the sea. Derek takes him around the rocks and the cliff side and Stiles gets his first glimpse of the shore. He sees sand and trees. It’s not the wild, untamed forest that he expected, but a beach. He sees a cell phone tower in the distance and he thinks he even catches the barest view of a road.

“A town?” Stiles mutters. The beach has been abandoned, it seems, but it most definitely had people there once. He sees a canoe, rotting and abandoned up on an incline. Faint text is printed on the back of the boat. Stiles can make out a P, but he’s not sure about the following letters. He twitches, trying to move forward toward the shore.

Derek gives a noise of protestation, but he shifts, taking Stiles to the dry land. He comes up with him, following after as Stiles steps over dirt. It feels amazing to have land under his feet for the first time in over a month and he lets out a sigh of relief. Derek comes up next to him, propped up on his tentacles and standing at an equal height to Stiles. The teen thinks Derek could rise up even taller, but the sea creature seems to be making a concerted effort to not tower over the human.

Stiles steps forward, going near the boat. Derek watches warily, giving the sea craft a wide berth. He seems to be eyeing it with hostility. Stiles figures it’s the newness of the vessel and he keeps going, taking in the letters on the back. It’s the city’s name, he thinks.

“Pescadero?” He mumbles. They’re in Pescadero. Stiles remembers reading about it on the news – some issue with the beach that caused it to close. They’re been having trouble with the boats – a mysterious animal was going around and turning them over. All the passengers came back safely, but the waters were deemed too dangerous. Stiles looks back, strongly suspecting that was Derek’s doing.

The creature’s still watching the boat, something mournful flitting across his face. Stiles’ heart contracts and he wonders what he’s going to do, now that he knows there’s a town nearby. He could leave Derek. He doesn’t want to.

Stiles sighs, moving over to his companion and plopping down on the sand. He frowns at the feel of sediment against his bare ass and props his elbows against his knees, staring out at the horizon. Derek hovers beside him uncertainly.

“I wish you could talk.” Stiles mutters. He reaches down, dipping his fingers into the sand and tracing a stick figure. When he draws the star on the man’s chest, he realizes it’s his dad and deflates.

Derek leans in, inspecting the drawing. He looks up at Stiles curiously, but there’s something like hope in his expression, like maybe Stiles could actually answer his question this time. Derek points at the sketch, tilting his head. Stiles chews his cheek, reaching forward and tracing another figure beside his dad. It’s like a child’s doodle - him and his dad holding hands - but it gets some sort of message across. Stiles points at the little guy and back at himself. Then he points at his dad.

Derek looks down, narrowing his eyes. He swipes out Stiles’ dad and draws in a basic pattern of a stick figure with tentacle legs. He points back at himself and Stiles snorts, shaking his head. He doesn’t erase Derek from the sketch, but he adds two more figures. He does his dad and his mom, both holding hands above him, and fills in an arrow, pointing down at himself. Derek inspects it, looking up at Stiles in realization and nodding his head.

Stiles’ heart pounds in his chest. They’re communicating. He’s talking to Derek and all he can think is ‘finally.’

Derek scrapes his fingers in the dirt, filling in two figures of octo-people above himself. He hesitates a moment before drawing a line through each one. Stiles can’t figure it out for a moment and then he looks at Derek’s sad face and gets it. Dead. His parents are dead.

Stiles draws a line through his mother, letting out a shuddering breath. Derek looks at him and they share a moment of intimate understanding. There are still things missing. The finer points of communication – the ability to ask questions, the ability to hear the pitch and dip of your partner’s voice, the ability to go into details like ‘My mom got sick when I was 8’ – are all missing. But then again, those are things Stiles isn’t partial to anyway. He doesn’t want to share the details of his mom’s death and he won’t ask about Derek’s parents. All they really need is the knowledge that they both know loss.

They’re silent for a while and then Derek starts tracing again, filling in more creatures beside him. They’re all octo-people and Stiles figures out that they’re siblings of Derek’s. Lines go through each of them and Stiles stares in horror. The ‘how’ is on his lips before he can stop it and while Derek doesn’t know the word, he seems to understand the meaning.

Derek looks back at the boat. He points at it then back at his siblings. He gestures to the fading ink stains on Stiles’ chest and back to the boat. He’s furrowing his brows in confusion and frustration as he starts tracing something else into the sand. It looks like zig zags at first. Derek shakes his head, closing his eyes to recall the memory and starting over again. He can’t seem to get them right and he huffs, doing a circle with flames around it. The sun, Stiles realizes, and Derek gestures back at his crude zig zag sketch.

The sun. Triangles. Boat. Ink.

Derek points insistently at the sun then back over to the zig zags and Stiles feels the pieces slowly slot into place. _Fire._ He thinks back, remembering a big boat accident about six years ago, a little ways off the coast. There’s been a huge oil spill that had caught alight, flames spilling out over the water. A lot of people had died in it and Stiles looks up at Derek, sympathetic and distraught when he realizes that Derek’s family must’ve been there too. 

Stiles reaches out and holds Derek’s hand, trying to show that he gets it. The sea creature studies his face, making sure that Stiles understands, and the teen nods.

They sit silently on the beach, enjoying each other’s company. The clouds break and the sun comes out, setting low on the horizon. Stiles goes with Derek back to the grotto, feeling closer to the creature than he’s felt to anyone in a long time.

***

Derek takes Stiles to the beach more often. It’s interesting, exploring the sand together and communicating with each other through crude drawings. They develop a sort of system and, while there are bumps along the way, they seem to understand each other fairly well.

Derek’s strained though. Stiles can see it in his eyes – this emotion hovering in their verdant depths that he can’t quite place but that makes him nervous. He can feel a change on the horizon and he knows when it hits. He reads it in Derek’s tense posture as the man takes him onto the beach. He sees it in the frown lines around his mouth. It hits home when Derek unfurls a tentacle and reveals Stiles’ swimming trunks. The creature may not know what they’re for, but he understands that Stiles was wearing them the day that Derek took him. He understands they’re what Stiles needs to be around others of his species.

Stiles doesn’t need a sketch to know that Derek’s saying goodbye. Stiles can’t breathe. He doesn’t understand what’s happening and he takes the garment with shaking fingers. It smells like must and seaweed and it’s caked in grime from the cave. Stiles isn’t sure where Derek was concealing the shorts or why he kept them at all, and it’s utterly ridiculous that their return has him feeling like his world’s crashing down around them, but he feels like he’s breaking apart when he wraps his palm around the fabric.

“I don’t understand.” Stiles says. He looks at Derek, tries to plead with him to explain.

Derek warbles sadly and wipes his fingers through the sand. The star on the stick figure’s chest is crude with only three points and uneven lines.

“My dad?” Stiles says.

Derek points at the drawing and back at Stiles. He’s letting him go. He’s sending him back to his father and his home and it _hurts._ Stiles doesn’t want to leave.

The teen shakes his head. He draws himself and Derek holding hands and he points at himself, trying to get him to understand that Stiles wants to say. It’s selfish and he feels horrible for leaving his dad hanging, but he wants to stay. He can’t got back to Beacon Hills and endless school days. He doesn’t want to go back to friends that aren’t really his friends. Scott’s his brother, of course, and he misses the guy dearly, but the others? They’re Scott’s friends. They’re not his. Stiles doesn’t really have very many people in his life that are his and this connection with Derek isn’t the strongest he has, but it’s getting there. He looks in Derek’s eyes and he sees that. He’s happy with Derek and he knows he’ll only get happier the longer they’re together. If only he could say all this to the creature. He just wishes he could get Derek to understand.

He’s still wishing when Derek retreats, disappearing under the water and leaving Stiles sitting on the beach, clutching his swim shorts and feeling totally lost.  

***

Stiles trudges toward Pescadero, the sun beating down on his bare back. He’s grateful that Derek released him with clothing, but he feels like he might as well be naked. Derek doesn’t understand just how vulnerable he is walking along the side of the street in just his swimming trunks. He’s going along Pescadero Creek Road, forced to walk barefoot through dirt and muck since there’s no sidewalk. Trees rise up around him, shielding him from the sun, and he smells water and fauna. There’s a stream nearby that attracts bugs and Stiles finds himself swatting away mosquitos as he crosses over a bridge, following the curve of the road as he goes through what seems like a hiking trail. It’s empty for a while and he finds bikes set up against a tree, temporarily abandoned by their owners. He thinks about taking one, but he discards that notion when he remembers he doesn’t have any shoes and peddling barefoot seems like a bad idea. He eyes one of the backpacks. There’s a water bottle in the side pocket and he feels his parched throat go even drier, persuading him to steal the refreshment. He pulls it out of the pack, drinking heartily from the canister. He hasn’t had clean water in almost two months and sweet relief floods him at the first hit of fresh hydration. Stiles has to stop himself from drinking all of it, knowing he’ll need some on reserve for his trip into town.

Stiles opens the backpack, pulling out a shirt and a snack bar. He wants to just take the whole lot, but if these guys pass him on the road, they’re going to notice, so he steals what he thinks he can get away with. The t-shirt’s black and inconspicuous, so it won’t catch their eye if they cycle past. The water bottle he can keep tucked to the side, and he’s planning on eating the snack as soon as he’s off.

Stiles zips the bag back up and continues his journey, flinching when he steps over rocks. He devours the granola bar in three bites, discarding the wrapper on the side of the road. He’d feel guilty about littering, but with no trashcans and nowhere to stow the wrapper until he can find one, he’s kind of out of options.

The road opens up, getting busier as he gets closer to town. Power lines hang above his head and he passes by driveways and gates. Cars and motorcycles whip past, some people honking, some ignoring him, and most eyeing him suspiciously. He’s ducking under a cluster of branches when an old guy pulls over, asking him if he needs a lift.

Stiles thinks about saying no. He doesn’t know this guy and he could easily end up a body in a ditch. He says yes anyway, hopping up into the passenger seat. The old man eyes him warily and Stiles thinks the suspicion goes both ways. Things with Derek were simpler. The dangers were simpler.

“Where you headed?” The guy asks.

“Beacon Hills.” Stiles answers.

The guy whistles. “Long trip to make.” He says.

It’s weird hearing this guy speak. There’s nothing strange about his voice or accent, but there is something strange about finding himself on the receiving end of another human voice after nearly seven weeks of only Derek for company. He’s having a conversation and he realizes how lost Derek would be in this environment, how he wouldn’t fit in at all. He doubts Derek knows about cars or clothes or electricity. Derek knows nothing about people. But he’s smart, Stiles knows that. And he hasn’t had anyone to talk to in six years. Stiles thinks he was the closest thing Derek’s had to companionship in a long time.

Stiles sighs.

“I can take you as far as Pescadero. Anywhere you want to get dropped off?”

“Police station.” Stiles answers.

The guy eyes him curiously. “Something happen to you?”

Stiles clenches his jaw, not sure how to answer that. It’s none of this guy’s business, so he just shrugs.

“Sheriff’s a good guy. He’ll take care of you.” The man promises.

“Thanks.” Stiles mutters, looking out the window and watching hills pass outside.

It only takes a few minutes before the guy’s pulling up in front of the sheriff’s office. Pescadero’s not very big, so he’s not surprised to find that the station’s small and there’s only one officer in sight. He walks in and the lady looks up, taking him in with thinly-concealed surprise.

“Can I help you?” She asks.

“I’m Stiles.” He says. “I went missing a little over a month ago. My dad, he’s the sheriff in Beacon Hills.”

“Stiles?” She asks, moving to her computer.

“Stilinski.”

She does a search, looking up at him in surprise. “Willy, honey! Come on out here!” She calls. She moves around the desk, ushering him to a seat. “Come on, sit down, son.”

“Emily, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Sheriff in the off-” Sheriff Willy stops when he sees Emily and Stiles.

“You remember that boy that went missing. The Beacon Hills kid?” Emily says.

“Yeah, he had that funny name. What was it?”

“Stiles.” Stiles says.

“Yeah, that was it.” Sheriff Willy says, snapping his fingers.

“Willy, this is him.” Emily says.

“Boy, son, am I glad you turned up. Your daddy’s been worried about you.” Sheriff Willy says. “Gonna be glad to get him off my back if you don’t mind my saying.” The man goes back into his office.

“Wilford!” Emily snaps in protest. “Don’t mind him. Mind’s going funny in his old age. You should see him at home.” She says, petting a hand over Stiles hair. “Can I get you some tea? A snack? Maybe we ought to take you to the hospital. I’m not exactly sure what the procedure is. We don’t get many missing kids showing up at our police station.”

If Stiles didn’t already miss Derek, dealing with these two certainly would have done the trick. Emily keeps babbling and Wilford steps out to tell him his dad’s on his way. Stiles hopes Sheriff Stilinski gets here soon, because he could really use something familiar.

***

Stiles’ dad hugs him tightly and cries, telling him how much he missed him. He tries to ask what happened and Stiles shakes his head and just asks him to take him home.

When they get back into Beacon Hills, it all looks the same.  But the feeling’s different. It’s not home anymore.

When he steps into his room, he sees all his things, all the markers of who he is as a person spread out in his personal little cube, and he likes it. He like having his things and he can practically hear the angelic choir when he sees his laptop. But he thinks he’d trade it all (maybe not the computer) for five more minutes with Derek.

Stiles showers and changes, wearing his clothes for the first time in far too long, and then his dad takes him out for a burger and curly fries. Stiles wolfs the food down, practically orgasmic in his consumption, and his dad watches him in concern.

“How long as it been since you ate?” His dad asks.

Stiles shrugs. It was hard to keep track of time in the grotto. He could do days, but hours were a whole other issue. “A while.” He answers, with his mouth full. He doesn’t even care that he’s smearing ketchup and grease on his face because he’s so hungry. 

The sheriff frowns, concerned. “Stiles,” He starts.

“Dad, don’t.” Stiles says, shoving a curly fry in his mouth.

His dad shakes his head and picks at his own meal. When Stiles finishes his, he eyes his dad’s food longingly and the sheriff slides it over, letting Stiles eat that too. Stiles is a mess by the end and he doesn’t even care. He hasn’t had to worry about eating etiquette in a while and the further relief of a proper meal has wiped away any reservations he might have had about looking like a pig.

When they get home, Stiles collapses on his bed and moans in relief. Pillows and blankets and cushioning underneath him feel like a dream compared to the raft-like bed he’d been sleeping in with Derek. He falls asleep with the lingering thought that maybe it won’t be so bad to be home after all.

***

It only takes a few weeks to dispel any notion Stiles had that he would be better off in Beacon Hills. There are plus sides, of course. The food’s better, the furnishings are more comfortable, and he actually has the freedom of movement. He can leave the house and go wherever he wants. But he’s _lonely_ and the only place he wants to go is right into Derek’s arms. Or, tentacles, he guesses.

He’s in love with Derek, he realizes. He loves everything about the sea creature and his heart breaks every time he thinks about him.

There’s a school dance coming up. Everyone’s nervous, coupling off and eyeing each other adoringly in the classroom, and Stiles feels his mood sink lower as each day passes.

Stiles perseveres. He gets through two months before he finally cracks.

He leaves a note to his dad, apologizing and telling him he had to go. He packs a bag with clothes and snacks and sneaks out of the house. He takes the jeep and drives off, toward Pescadero.

***

Sand shifts under Stiles’ feet as he steps onto the beach. It’s close to sunrise now and he watches the moon dip low toward the horizon. He sits down on the sand, staring out over the water and waiting.

He doesn’t know if Derek will come or not. He doesn’t know if the man’s even here still. He might have abandoned the cave after sending Stiles off, but the teen waits.

“Derek.” Stiles say softly. The whisper of the waves is his only response. “I don’t know if you’re still out there, but I…” Stiles stops, brushing his fingers in the sand. He writes the thing he can’t say. ‘I love you.’

Stiles huffs, falling back onto the ground and staring up at the fading stars. “I tried.” He mumbles. “I really did.” He’s saying it mostly for his benefit, insisting to the sky like it makes a difference. He feels guilty, knowing he should have stayed and tried harder, but he’s selfish. “I’m sorry.” He says, feeling tears prick at his eyelids. He thinks of his dad and Scott, how they’ll feel when they find that he’s gone again. Stiles lets out a frustrated sigh, wiping his eyes roughly and staring above him. It’s growing lighter as dawn approaches. He wonders what he’ll do if Derek doesn’t show up. He’ll probably wait. He’ll keep waiting until he can’t anymore.

The water ripples in the background and Stiles stares at the orange and blue hues that layer over the twinkling lights in the sky. The last of the stars will disappear in a few minutes. There’s movement on the beach and Stiles stares fixedly at the three glowing orbs still visible above his head. The movements comes closer and Stiles hears an achingly familiar coo. His breath stops and his pulse sky rockets, but he’s too afraid to look. He’s too afraid to speak, and he keeps himself still, hope and shame and fear thundering inside of him.

Derek’s face appears above his and Stiles gasps in relief. He pushes upward, arms moving around the creature before he can stop himself, and then he’s burying his head in Derek’s shoulder, holding on tightly for fear that the man will disappear. Derek burbles, tentacles lacing around him. It’s weird, feeling them over his clothes, but the weight’s still familiar and it makes Stiles’ heard ache at finally having it again.

“God, I missed you.” He says. Derek warbles, fingers stroking through his hair. Stiles pulls back just enough to look into Derek’s green eyes and then he dives forward, kissing him. It’s desperate and longing and Derek responds in kind, a confirmation that the creature was just as affected by the time apart. It makes Stiles feel radiant and light headed. The guilt fades and he can no longer be worried that what he’s doing isn’t right because it feels so perfect.

Derek pulls away, eyeing Stiles’ curiously in the dim light. The question on his face is obvious  - _Why did you come back?_

Stiles sketches in the sand, him and Derek next to the ‘I love you.’ He looks at Derek insistently. The octopus-man draws the sheriff and frowns. Stiles shakes his head, pointing back at his drawing and pleading with his eyes. He wants Derek.

The creature studies him, conflicted. He takes in the desperation on Stiles’ face and longing invades his own features. He dives forward, reconnecting their lips, and Stiles moans gratefully, clutching at the man.

Derek strips Stiles slowly between kisses until Stiles finds himself nude and trapped under the creature. It’s slow and sweet as they move against each other, knocking sand over the drawings and Stiles’ message.  

Derek pushes a tentacle inside of him and it’s bizarre, at first, but not in a horrible way. Stiles takes deep breaths, trying to relax as the muscle flexes and twists. Derek goes slowly, giving Stiles time to adjust. The teen prompts him to move, holding him close as Derek slides the feeler slowly along Stiles’ insides. The cool slickness of the tentacle is a salve to the burn of the stretch, and Stiles gasps, clutching at Derek’s shoulder and running kisses over his jaw. He moans when Derek rubs against his prostate. The creature looks at him uncertainly, and Stiles shifts his hips, trying to get the man to do it again. Derek does, searching his face the whole time until he’s sure Stiles’ likes it. Stiles keens, arching against him and holding on desperately.

Derek pushes in and out, slanting this tentacle against Stiles’ prostate and panting as his own pleasure builds. They’re lips stay together the whole time, either pressing against each other in longing kisses or sharing breath as their bodies move together. Stiles reaches completion, back bowing in the sand and crying out. Derek follows after him, squirting ink into his hole, and Stiles wonders if it will stain. The mark on his chest faded a long time ago and he misses it.

They collapse on the beach, holding each other and watching the sun come up over the horizon. Stiles smiles softly, staring into seaweed green irises and feeling, for the first time, like it’s all going to be okay.

***

_Epilogue – 2 Years Later:_

They have a houseboat. Stiles just got it and they’re talking about what to do with it. Derek doesn’t want to do anything. Stiles thinks the creature is confused about why they would even need a shelter outside of the cave. Stiles sketches himself shivering under flecks of snow, pointing out that winter in the grotto is horrible. Derek smirks, wrapping his tentacles around Stiles and reminding him of just how they spent last winter. Stiles rolls his eyes.

It had been wonderful, of course, staying wrapped up in Derek’s arms and feelers. But it had also been a pain and he doesn’t plan on spending another few months shivering his ass off. He wants to be inside. And he also misses the internet. And hot meals.

Derek wouldn’t understand any of that, especially the meals. Stiles goes into town sometimes to get regular people food. He brought back a burger once, for Derek, and the man had taken one bite before gargling in protest and disappearing off into the water. He’d kept a distance as Stiles finished his dinner, poking his forehead above water and narrowing his eyes suspiciously the whole time. He hasn’t trusted anything Stiles has tried to give him since.

Stiles’ dad knows about Derek now. The octopus-man had insisted that Stiles contact his dad. Derek can be surprisingly persistent when he wants to be.

The sheriff isn’t too thrilled with Stiles’ partner. He’d tried to shoot him at first, actually, and even now he doesn’t seem to understand just what the hell Stiles is up to. He’d tried once to give Stiles a lecture on sex safety, before eyeing Derek’s tentacles and blanching. That topic’s strictly off limits now.

Derek likes the sheriff, Stiles thinks. Even though every time he draws the man now, the sheriff has angry eyebrows, Derek always hovers curiously when Stiles’ dad visits. He’s fascinated by the man’s uniform and he watches Stiles and the sheriff interact with keen interest. He’s also enthralled with the sheriff’s badge.

Derek hadn’t understood the star symbol on Stiles’ sketches before, but after meeting the eldest Stilinski, he finally realized where the odd shape had come from. He doesn’t know what it means, of course. He likes it, though. Too much, in fact. He has a treasure chest hidden in the back of the grotto, filled with shells and bottles and things he’s collected over the years and he keeps trying to add the badge to it.

The sheriff brings supplies when he comes up. He mostly delivers sketchbooks and drawing utensils. They were originally intended to make communication easier for Derek and Stiles, but it turns out Derek’s actually quite a drawer once he has proper equipment.

The creature had been confused at first. He’d never used pencil or paper before and he didn’t seem to get that you can’t bring them into the water with you. He got the hang of it after a while, however, and now he draws almost constantly.

Stiles thinks he’ll introduce him to water colors soon. He’s worried it might just confound the creature, but Derek’s taken quite well to sketching elaborate pictures of things he’s seen in the ocean. He knows Stiles can’t go down and share Derek’s world with him, so he shows Stiles what he can – schools of fish, crashed boats, and frightening beasts.  There are lots of unknown things in the ocean and Derek shows Stiles drawings of them. He thinks the man’s trying to be nice, but it mostly just scares the shit out of Stiles and makes him all the more determined to avoid the water as much as possible. He’s safe as long as he’s in the cave or with Derek, but he still prefers dry land. He thinks he’ll like the houseboat though, once he gets it fixed up.

Stiles hypothesizes that he can find a way to open up the bottom so Derek can swim up under the boat and join him in the hull, he just has to find a way to keep the water craft from sinking. He’s dedicated most of his time lately to studying boat anatomy and engineering. He has a mini library up on the beach now, with research material for him and picture books for Derek. They spend a lot of their evenings up on the shore, with Stiles learning and Derek sitting beside him, leaving sand and water in the margins of his books as he coos over the photos. Derek’s favorite tome is a photographic collection of farm animals. He’s utterly captivated by cows.

At night, Stiles and Derek retire to the grotto, curling up together in the bed. Sometimes they make love, sometimes they don’t. Stiles doesn’t know if they’re past the honeymoon phase and settling into something like married life, but it doesn’t worry him either way. It’s not without its obstacles, of course. They’re different species with different cultures and languages. It can be incredibly frustrating trying to maneuver around the other. And they fight sometimes, though neither of them seems to be entirely sure what the fights are about, since they can’t communicate a lot of the finer details. But they always manage to make up, and it’s pretty obvious when that happens, as they cling to each other desperately and say with their bodies what they can’t with their words. 

It’s a good life, as far as Stiles is concerned. It’s a great life, actually. A bit unconventional maybe and entirely bizarre, but undeniably perfect.

“I love you.” Stiles whispers when they settle into bed. He doesn’t know if Derek understands the words, but he coos pleasantly, wrapping himself around the human. Stiles snuggles in, smiling happily. It really is perfect, he thinks.


End file.
